All Things End with Home
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: 'He always said I was going to die first.'-'Perhaps there isn't a reason for these things. - 'Perhaps there isn't a reason for anything.'-'I don't believe that. There has to be.' Char death.
1. Prologue

Author's Notes

This was originally planned to be a oneshot, but then the idea just grew. Hopefully won't be impossibly long though. Got enough of those…

Apparently the twins were born in 1993. Therefore add eleven years (twelve for English Dub) and you get the year they went to the Digital World, give or take a year. That's 2004.

Enjoy, and take note of the little blue button at the bottom of the page. Well, it comes up blue in my browser anyway…

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><p><span>All Things End with Home<span>

'He always said I was going to die first.'-'Perhaps there isn't a reason for these things. - 'Perhaps there isn't a reason for anything.'-'I don't believe that. There has to be.' Char death.

Kouichi K & Kouji M

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><p><span>Prologue<span>

It wasn't raining, but the weather was still pretty dreary. The green blades of grass glimmered with traces of late night dew catching the rays of light the lamps sent. Despite that, it was still rather dark, and if not for the torch he would have walked straight past his destination despite his intention. The yellow beam of light washed over gravestone after gravestone, reading off names that meaning absolutely nothing to him, vanishing into the abyss of his mind as his lips mouthed them carefully to make sure he didn't miss his stop.

He stopped momentarily at a particular grave before moving on. The surname was the same…but then again, it was a very common name.

It took a little longer till he found the right one, and when he did he dropped his load and sunk to his knees in front of the stone. For a moment he just stayed there, before stretching out a tentative hand to run his fingers over the engraving. Even in the dim light, he had no problem reading them, the words on the front of the monument.

_Minamoto Kouji_

_1993 – 2007_

The space beneath it was empty. Sometimes there was a quote or a small epiphany carved under the name. Sometimes there was a name of a spouse. Sometimes there was nothing, in which case the text that did exist was centred rather than crowded up the top.

The only time it was left empty like that was when they had been expecting another family member to die at or around the same date.

His fingers still smoothed over the stone, perfect, without a crack. The digits curled into a fist, and for a moment he wanted to shatter that blasted grey moment into a thousand fingers, but instead he brought it towards his chest, clutching it tight as his body shook. He fought the instinct to lower his head, even as the start of tears started forming, collating on his lashes.

'I-I'm sorry,' he began, voice shaking as well as the rest of his frame. 'I should have come earlier, but I just…I couldn't…' He shook a little more. It really hadn't been his fault though. As it was, his father and stepmother were going to freak out, but he just couldn't take it anymore. Of course, no-one was thinking about that at the time.

He straightened up the curled fingers, eventually forcing them straight when they refused to cooperate. For another few moments he sat in silence, before reaching into the bundle he was carrying before removing a brush and working to remove the light dust that had settled on the scene.

After a while, it was hard to see what he was doing.

There was so many things reeling through his head, but nothing was formulating into any sort of coherence.

'There's so many thing I want to say, but…' The brush fell, and he made no move to pick it up. It fell on the path of the torch beam in any case. Chances were he wouldn't miss it. 'I guess I just don't know how to say. Or _what_ to say really.'

He picked up the flowers he had brought, carefully arranging them.

'I brought some sweets. And you're probably wondering why I brought roses when you hate them.' He didn't even know why the words were coming out of his mouth. Maybe because he had to say something, no matter how meaningless, how crazy…

'You hated it because of all the different colours, the ambiguity of the name where it could mean flowers no-one would ever think to be "roses". They're symbol of romance and beauty, too "girly". They meant secrets…though that one was my fault. I told you all about how they use a wild rose in Rome to signify a secret or confidential matter. It's where the phrase _sub rosa_ came from. You remember that right? Under the rose?'

He took a deep, shaking breath.

'And the five petals, how they represent the five wounds of Christ…and we're not even Christian. The national flower of England, the floral emblem of the United States…we're Japanese. And it's a symbol of social democracy in a truckload of countries out West. The White Rose was a symbol in World War II of a non-violent resistance group in Germany. And a red rose is an unofficial symbol of Catalonia. Not to mention it's apparently an ingredient of love potions.'

He looked at the flowers.

'I threw in a red one you know. White, pink, yellow, orange, lilac and some you really hated because you couldn't make up your mind what colour it was supposed to be.'

The tears were flowing freely now.

'But I didn't put them into a bouquet. I brought a different one; I know what sort of flowers you preferred too. I followed you to the flower shop before we first met, remember? But single roses…you hate all those sublime messages too though. You probably don't even remember which is which. But single roses, they mean: I still love you. But I shouldn't have to tell you that…should I?'

Any onlooker would have a hard time distinguishing his words from his sobs.

'Dammit,' he cried, dropping his hands again. 'Why the hell did you have to be wrong? You always said I was going to die first. That I was too reckless and got myself into those sorts of situations. But it was you who did something stupid, and you…and I'm…'

He stopped talking altogether then, trying to get himself under control before picking up the water basin. His hands still shook, causing some of the water to slosh to the sides before he poured it carefully over the monument. The result was that the petals and leaves kept the little drops of water as well as the grass kept the late night dew.

'On the bright side, you'll finally get to meet 'baa-chan. Say "hi" to her for me, and to 'kaa-san…'

Somehow, a simple "hi" didn't even skim the surface of what he wanted to say, but he had the same problem. He couldn't work out what he wanted to say.

Nor did he think he could have said it. His chest fell so heavy, and his lungs would give him the air he needed no matter how hard he tried.

The wet grass masked the sound of footsteps, but even the torch was enough to shed a shadow over him. He didn't say anything, just took a few deep breaths and brought his hands as close to his heart as he could, clutching the fabric as his jaw clenched.

'Winter might be gone, but it's still pretty cold.'

Those words were accompanied by the sound of rustling cloth and then a jacket suddenly fell onto his shoulders, helping to slightly guard against the chill. Automatically, a pale hand lost its grip and came up to grasp it, but when he made to pull it a little more securely around himself, he realised just what jacket it was. Or rather, _whose_ jacket it was.

When he did, the jacket fluttered to the ground with a startled gasp.

'Hey now. It _is_ cold you know.'

The jacket came back around his shoulders, accompanied by brown hands to prevent him from shaking or brushing it off. Not that he tried to; it was more of a limp sort of reaction as the scent of his brother's jacket wafted in the air. Sooner or later, it would reach his nose.

'What are you guys doing here?' It was supposed to come out emotionlessly, but his voice sounded so cracked and weak that it rather lost its effect. Instead, it sounded like the voice of a vulnerable, lonely child.

Takuya kept his hands around the other's shoulders, and Izumi joined them both, picking up the remains of the other's load, along with the flashlight. When she moved the beam away from the grave, its light fell onto the engraving on the next, showing the name: _Kimura Tomoko_ along with the years of birth and death, the latter being the same as her son as well as on every in-date calendar in the world.

'We were looking for you.' That was Junpei, standing a little behind the others, an umbrella in one hand. 'We had a feeling you'd be here, especially seeing as it's the middle of the night and all…' He trailed off, giving the only female a look. Perhaps he was expecting to be elbowed in the stomach.

'In any case,' Izumi said quietly. 'You should go home. It's late, and your parents are worried.'

Kouichi's eyes fell again, the blue glistening with nothing save tears and the barest threads of life.

'I-I can't…not right now…'

The breeze blew in around that time, stinging his eyes and drying up the water treks left from his tears. He trembled, this time more from the cold than anything else, reaching up to pull the jacket…his brother's jacket…closer around his thin and pale frame.

Izumi opened her mouth to say something again, but Junpei took a step forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. When the blonde looked up at him, he shook his head slowly, quietly.

'Wait,' he mouthed silently.

She turned back and obeyed, bringing her own hands (gloved) close to her chest to hide their own trembling.

Even the grass trembled in the dim light, swaying to and fro in the wind, losing its hue as the small water droplets rolled off, evaporating into the air, carried away from the sudden gust…before it fled, leaving them all cold, dry and empty.

'This isn't really the time,' Takuya said eventually, tightening his half-embrace. 'Come on, let's go back.'

'I-I can't…I need to-'

They only partially understood. After all, they had the chance to say goodbye, unlike him. They weren't his twin, the resultant bond which had brought him so close to death again the grave before them had almost held two sets of bones instead of one. They weren't the ones who had lost a mother and a brother so close together, seeing neither, hearing neither…

But they had all felt that overwhelming pressure, the need to say or do something but not knowing what.

The spare hand came up to rub off the salty feeling left by his tears, and he breathed again, once, twice, a third time…

'Come on,' Takuya repeated. 'You can come back. No-one's going anywhere.'

He thought for a moment. And then he shook his head. For a moment it looked like he was going to drag them both forward, seize the grave in a fervour with both hands and clutch it like a dying man…and no-one would have been surprised.

But he didn't. He simply knelt in the grass and dirt as his hand lost its grip on the jacket again.


	2. Roses are Red

Author's Notes

Okay, note to self. Twins, Takuya and Izumi are fourteen. Takuya, Izumi and Kouji go to the same junior high school.

Okay, one day late isn't so bad. But the plan got a little messed up with this chapter. Filling the gaping hole in the middle skewered the end so I had to (sadly) rewrite it.

Those of you who read my DF fics or Crests of Origin, please take note of the new update schedule and wish me luck to sticking to it. Already a day late with this one.

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><p><span>All Things End with Home<span>

'He always said I was going to die first.'-'Perhaps there isn't a reason for these things. - 'Perhaps there isn't a reason for anything.'-'I don't believe that. There has to be.' Char death.

Kouichi K & Kouji M

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><p><span>Chapter 1<span>

Roses are Red

'Aww, Kouji's got a love note.'

If the speaker had been _anyone_ other than Takuya (or one of four other possibilities, all of varying likelihood), they'd be shrivelling into a puddle of green liquefied tissue, lung fluid and odorous gases. As it was, the brunette got a rather hard knock to the head from his elbow as his arm automatically shot out to snatch the piece of paper out of his cubby and stuff it into his jacket.

In the process, one of them knocked a red rose to the ground, immediately being trampled.

Izumi, behind them, let out a wince. 'Tell me that wasn't on purpose,' she muttered, fully aware that her friend got rather irritated at the numerous admirers and their "presents" and generally threw their well-meaning gifts in the bin. He at least had the sense to do it out of plain sight, even if it did mean heaving the extra load home to do so; the result was there the girls who'd given them were a little less hurt, not having to see their hearts get trodden to dust.

'It was,' Kouji confirmed with a wince of his own, blue eyes quickly sweeping the cubbies in case there was a lingering female fleeing with the beginnings of tears glittering in once hopeful eyes. Who'd created the female population anyway? he silently grumbled to himself. Didn't they get the message the first few times that he wasn't interested in a girlfriend?

Takuya lifted his foot and the other crouched down, carefully collecting the squashed petals and stem and putting it into his backpack, note safely crumpled in his jacket.

'Seriously.' Now, Izumi sounded rather amused. 'You should be flattered.'

Kouji shrugged, finally getting to his shoes and slipping them on, replacing them with the school pair to wait for him the following morning. 'I'd rather they not,' he said quietly. 'I don't know any of them.'

'Aww,' Takuya repeated in the same initial tone. 'That's so sweet.' And he made to throw his hands around the other's shoulders, only to be shoved away.

'You're really pushing it Takuya.'

That left their blonde companion rolling her eyes.

'You coming to the arcade with me and Tomoki?' the brunette asked, yielding before Izumi lost her temper at him…again.

'No,' Kouji replied after a brief pause. 'You know it's Kouichi's day to call.'

'You do miss them half the time.' The boy shrugged. 'Seriously, just because he's too stubborn to let you call him _all_ the time, and you're too stubborn to settle with half and half –'

'For your information, he decided to stop being nice and hung up on me the last time.'

Both Takuya and Izumi laughed at that.

'Stop that,' Kouji muttered.

'Sorry.' Wisely, it was the girl who spoke. 'But it's so weird to think of Kouichi hanging up on _you_, much less anyone.'

Kouji made a slight grimace. 'He gets it from 'kaa-san. But I guess phone-calls aren't that big of a deal.'

He, unfortunately, had to deal with Takuya's teasing on the subject for the short work home.

'Aren't you going to the arcade?' he growled finally.

Takuya grinned at him. 'It's on the way.'

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><p>'Kimura-kun? Visiting hours are over.'<p>

Kouichi sincerely hoped that wasn't going to turn into a repetitive alarm. Hearing the statement once in his life amidst the soft blackness that embraced his mind was _more_ than enough.

For a moment, he felt as though his dreamless sleep had transitioned into a nightmare. In fact, he was all for rolling over and drifting back off – he probably would have too if it hadn't been for something jabbing into his side. As it was, he groaned something illegible before forcing his eyes open.

'Visiting hours are over,' the nurse repeated, setting her load down on the bedside cabinet.

The fourteen year old lifted a head heavied with weariness, blinking blearing at his mother's sleeping form. Since he'd taken a seat by her bedside, she had failed to stir. Instead, she slumbered in a realm far from all others…including the worried son by her hand.

Saturdays were typically a half-day of school, but he'd barely made it through half of first period before the call had come. They had been somewhat lucky; Tomoko had been at work prior to her collapse, and her co-worker knew everything there was to know in such emergencies…except how to get the other back to full health of course. But she had known who to contact…otherwise Kouichi would have wound up home alone for the night.

She'd also offered the guest bedroom, and he had gratefully accepted. While staying alone was nothing new to him, there was a large difference between being alone because one's guardian was working a nightshift and being alone because the same guardian was sleeping in a hospital bed, inching along a scale that marked death or recovery.

However, he still had the two hours before visiting hours started up again to kill. He did have homework (thanks to a meticulously ordered mathematics teacher). He also had his bento box of lunch, but neither of those things were wholly appealing.

And then there was the phone-call he was nearly late for. But that was only slightly more appealing.

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><p>Kouji had been expecting a phone-call when he walked into the house, but nothing else. He had <em>not<em> been expecting his father sitting innocently at the dining table in the least. Particularly, he was not expecting the grave expression on the other's face.

''tou-san?' It came out as more of a question than a statement or greeting of any sort. 'Why are you home early?'

The older man smiled, but it came out rather strained. 'Do I need a reason to be home early?'

'Yes,' the other muttered stoutly…and for a good reason. After all, Kousei's hours had him working from nine to six all days save Sundays. Seeing him home at two-thirty was several levels of unusual.

'Well…' Kousei sighed, before deciding on the direct approach. 'Your mo-'

He was interrupted by the phone, and then twice-over as, before he could restart the statement, Kouji made a beeline for the contraption.

'Moshi moshi, Minamoto residence,' he said in a single breathe, before pressing on. 'Ni-san! You're late.'

Only Kouji would call a few minutes "late".

'Hey,' Kouichi replied quietly, his voice sounding somewhat odd…and unclear.

'Where are you calling from?' Kouji's brow furrowed. 'Your apartment line is normally clearer than this.'

'Yeah, this…' There was a pause. 'I'm calling from the hospital. 'kaa-san collapsed, and she hasn't woken up.'

The silence stretched. Kouji attempted to work his mouth as his mind grappled for footholds. 'Is it serious?'

'More serious than before. She's been sick for awhile, you know, but-'

'-but not _sick_.' It made perfect sense. It was just a difficult idea to wrap one's mind around. Tomoko wasn't the sort of person to lay down and rest, no matter who was doing the ordering. It may have seemed like the symptoms of stubbornness during the times where rest appeared a necessity, but the consequence had been her living past the life-span estimated for her several years ago. Pressing on with life instead of letting it pool around her feet, she had succeeded in raising her eldest son to fourteen, becoming reacquainted with the younger one since eleven and moved up in the ranks of her work-place to a comfortable living.

So the idea of impending death had been shoved to the backs of everyone's minds, and for it to show up again so suddenly –

Kouji almost jumped as his father appeared behind him, hand extended for the phone.

'Does 'tou-san know?' he asked instead of relinquishing his grip.

'I think so,' Kouichi replied after a brief pause. 'Ayame-san called him.'

Kousei took the phone from the slacking hand.

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><p>It certainly was a good thing he carried his keys around, Kouichi thought to himself as he walked towards the apartment he shared with his mother. Even when she was supposed to be there to greet him. Elsewise he'd have half his homework stuck for the weekend and no clothes to change into. There wasn't anything else of importance…or nothing he could recall from the top of his head.<p>

Ayame had sent him home to retrieve what he needed for a few nights stay. While she had toothbrushes in plenitude, she had little else for a growing _boy_, much less specifics, having only two young daughters under her wing. They were certainly going to be a helpful, but they were part of the reason why the arrangement turned out to be mutually beneficial. For Ayame, even while home, sometimes needed a hand with two rowdy kids, and Chika and Seika both adored their surrogate older brother.

Of course, the question of whether or not he would tolerate the girls' bright pink pyjamas never came us as they would in no way fit the fourteen year old. Unfortunately, school uniforms just aren't designed for sleeping comfort.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and walked on. Somehow, just somehow, he always found sleep pulling at his mind during the harder times of life. Maybe it was because he wouldn't have to think…then…

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><p>The autumn air was chilled, but not overly so. The blazer accompanying the winter uniform was, in fact, the perfect guard against the chill, so it was lucky, or perhaps a Godsent, that they'd just changed uniforms earlier that same week. So rushing out the door was made extra easy.<p>

And his father had apparently been prepared for that very same action as he arrived a minute or so later with his keys and wallet.

'Ready to go?'

'Yeah.'

'And we'll stop for flowers too.'

Kouji grimaced at that despite himself. He hadn't set foot in that flower shop since the fateful anniversary three years ago.

And unfortunately, it was the same woman standing behind the counter. Beyond that, she still recognised him.

Luckily, Kousei was with him. Because apparently, while eleven year olds were a little young for high school girls, fourteen year olds weren't for the slightly older counterpart.

The weather decided to mimic the mood.

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><p>Kouichi flicked the light switch, before flicking it again. The light stubbornly stayed off. That was when he remembered it had been slowly dimming for weeks.<p>

And it just happened to pick _that_ night to fizzle out entirely. Luckily, there was a little moonlight and his night-vision was strong enough to not have him bumping into all corners.

He did manage to trip over the carpet on his way back though. And that had the effect of a circuit-breaker. Understandably, it took him a few minutes in consequence to abandon his spot on the floor.

He didn't even notice the salty treks until he stepped out into the dark afternoon. The messed up clothing he had, but as the uniform had already scrunched itself during his unscheduled nap, it was of little consequence.

He could have pretended it was the rain wetting his face…except for the umbrella over his head.

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><p>The roses, blooming a fierce red and wrapped in green, lay between Kouji's knees as he stared out the window. The sky had darkened quickly, bringing a drop in the temperature and the probability of rain, before freezing as the grey clouds hung low in the sky. All in all, it was gloomy weather, offering no direction or release.<p>

'Why can't it just rain or clear up?' he muttered sourly.

Kousei glanced at him as they stopped at a red light. 'That's just how the weather is,' he said as he turned back to the road, foot lightly tapping the gas pedal, other firmly pressing down the break.

'I know that.' The tone was somewhat snappish, and Kouji evidently realised that as he immediately added: 'I didn't mean it like that.'

'I know you didn't.' The older man smiled, almost sadly. 'You're just worried about your mother.'

Kouji turned, but not fully. Instead, his body curved so the metal of the car obscured his vision. 'I'm not worried,' he said stubbornly. ''kaa-san will be fine. She was last time.' He paused after that, glaring at the red light that bounced off the shiny finish. 'Why doesn't it change?'

'Whether you believe or not, there is always a bit of doubt favouring the other side.' The way Kousei said that, it suggested to the other that he knew full well the denial that laced the previous words.

Kouji's face relaxed slightly and he flexed his fingers. The parcel rushed to his feet.

'Oh…the roses…'

He leaned down to pick them up. The sounds that followed flew through his head like a movie on fast forward. The beeping of a horn. The screeching of brakes. Someone screaming. And lights. Lots of flashing lights.

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><p>When his vision blurred, the first thing that crossed Kouichi's mind was that he had somehow wandered off the footpath and onto the road. In fact, he wouldn't have been too surprised if that was the case. Beeping followed…or perhaps it preceded. He wasn't entirely sure. All he knew was something was beeping in his head – probably a driver trying to get him off the street before he became road kill – and something was flashing.<p>

It was rather dizzying really. Probably should have been annoying, but it simply snuck up on him too fast.

Mercifully, they fled just as mercifully, leaving the path in front of him as dark and dreary as the sky.


	3. Sleeping Beauty

Author's Notes

Finally, new chapter. Enjoy.

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><p><span>All Things End with Home<span>

'He always said I was going to die first.'-'Perhaps there isn't a reason for these things. - 'Perhaps there isn't a reason for anything.'-'I don't believe that. There has to be.' Char death.

Kouichi K & Kouji M

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><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

Sleeping Beauty

He awoke to a wrinkled old hand stroking his hair. It reminded him of his grandmother, how _Obaa-chan_ used to comfort him every time he crawled onto her rocking chair after a nightmare during his afternoon naps as a child. His mother would always be working then…but when nightmares crawled into the night with him, she'd slip under the covers with him and they'd remain like that, tightly wound, till morning. If she had a nightshift – and there had been far fewer, mercifully, during his early childhood, his grandmother would take him to bed with her. After all, she was too old to go trampling about the house in the dark, and he was too young to go so far from the night-light.

He hadn't realised the words, the yearning, had escaped his lips until he heard the chuckling reply.

'My, do I really look that old?'

His eyes opened slowly to take in the sight of a warm living room, decorated in brown and a soft yellow. The gentle scent of chamomile wafted through the air. 'No,' he responded automatically, before looking into the kind face and realising it was the truth. She _didn't_ look old: not as old as _Obaa-chan._

The woman drew away with another laugh. 'You're so polite,' she said affectionally. 'Oh, don't worry,' she added, seeing the sudden bewilderment as the boy realised he did _not_ recognise his surroundings. 'You're at my apartment. My son and daughter in law found you unconscious by the gate outside and brought you in.'

The blue eyes slowly blinked. 'Ah, _Gomen nasai_, I-' He paused, brow furrowing slightly, and then he lifted a hand to his temple.

'Are you unwell?' the kind lady asked.

He shook his head. Not _unwell_, just…

'You certainly look tired.' The hand smoothed his hair back again. 'Where are your parents?'

Before Kouichi could formulate the words required to answer the question, a new voice appeared.

'Oh, you're awake.'

And a third, this time male.

'Are you feeling alright?'

The boy sat up, ignoring the cry of "don't" as he half-bowed. 'I'm alright. _Arigato go_-'

He was cut off by the guff reply of 'nonsense.'

'We couldn't simply leave you by the gate,' the younger female added. 'Even though you're a remarkably cute boy and you looked simply adorable –'

He blushed, but the woman had chosen her words well and he could not answer to them.

'Your parents?' the man, presumably the old lady's son, prompted.

'They-' The words became lost in his throat and his eyes stung. _'kaa-san_ – she – '

They waited patiently. They didn't rush him. Complete strangers, but they were all kind people. He would have cried, but he was empty, at that time, of tears.

'She's at the hospital,' he mumbled finally, wondering why it had been so difficult to say. Maybe because he was tired. Or maybe it was because he didn't know these people…although in all retrospect it should have been harder to tell Kouji. Maybe he had still been in shock then. He didn't really know.

The younger woman made a sympathetic noise as the elder petted his hair again. He let his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling with a sense of sadness and foreboding. Sadness because it reminded him of his own _Obaa-chan_. Foreboding for a reason he didn't understand.

How had he collapsed out of the blue anyway? He thought he'd stopped doing that. But try as he might, he couldn't muster up any irritation on the matter…albeit the "damage" from his fall three years ago had chosen a bad time to remanifest.

But it just didn't _feel_ like that sort of fainting/migraine spell. For one, his head wasn't killing him. It just felt like it was stuck in some clouds…except he wasn't daydreaming as far as he could tell.

He sighed to himself. He was probably tired. Weird things always happened to him when he was tired. But normally it was just a case of winding up on the wrong train or bumping into people on the streets.

He was thinking so deeply that he missed the question.

'Uh…I'm sorry?'

'What about your father?' the man repeated, gently and somewhat worriedly.

'Ah…' He actually didn't know. 'He was on his way to the hospital with my brother, but I don't know if he's there yet.'

'That's easy enough to check-' the old lady began, before her daughter-in-law cut her off.

'I'll check, _okaa-san_. If you call, they'll think you're sick again.'

'True enough.'

It was a mark of how stressful the day had been that he started laughing. And realised none of them had introduced themselves.

* * *

><p>There wasn't much blood on the scene, but when the front of the car was smashed it meant little in retrospect. Cuts and bruises there were plenty; there was a steady drip moistening crushed flowers. That part of the picture was a little unnerving, even to paramedics who were trained to withstand all sorts of gruesome scenes. It wasn't the creepiness of blood staining pure petals already a blooming red. It was simply the principle of the situation. Taking flowers to visit someone: hospital or graveyard as neither of the car's occupants were dressed for any sort of formal gathering, only for the entire journey to be crushed.<p>

Whether momentary or permanent still remained to be seen. The side-on collision was bad, but not irrevocably lethal. The other party had been lucky; their van had absorbed a great deal more of the impact, and for them it had been head-on. The only real damage was to the bumper, although there was a rather large lump forming on the driver's forehead.

It was the pair in the car on the receiving end that had the more damage. A teenager by the looks of him; the impact had hit his door. The driver fared better, being opposite to the collision but he had evidently attempted to reach his…son? The paramedic wasn't quite sure but he assumed it must be…or an uncle at the very least. It wasn't uncommon for teens to sit at the front, but certainly not when someone not a closer relative drove the car.

But judging from the angle of the break, the…father? Stuck his hand out to either grab the son or push the oncoming vehicle away – a purely reflexive reaction.

Further careful examination of the son showed he had bent down for some reason or other. It was possible that that too was a reflexive action, ducking the oncoming vehicle in the only way one could in a seat-belt…or perhaps the wrong safety rules had kicked in. That worked when the aeroplane was in high turbulence or was in the process of a crash, but it certainly wasn't taught as a part of ground-vehicular safety.

The other possibility lay at the boy's feet; the crumpled green wrapping and red roses crushed and blotched with blood.

Either way, the motion hadn't saved him at all. In fact, he may have been better off remaining still – but it was against human nature to do so. Even the terrifying moment when the body betrays one and freezes in fear causes a movement: a stiffening that causes greater harm on impact. Whether that t was a contributing factor remained to be seen.

A lot of things remained to be seen. Things that could not be determined from the scene. What he could tell though, and the paramedic made a mental note of them as he crawled carefully out of the car, was that they would be needing a neck-brace and oxygen supply for transport…and an anaesthetic.

Because he was _not_ going to think about how the kid was still conscious. Or perhaps the more accurate term would be _not_ unconscious.

The police had the more pedantic job: shooing away the curious stragglers. One, rather irate, rolled his eyes at the sight. It was a well-assumed fact that Kyoto did not get as much…"excitement" as some put it, as Tokyo did. But that was no reason to let curiosity cover empathy.

Or make their jobs difficult. Because it was bad enough trying to sort through accidents when there wasn't a crowd gathering. Or deal with a robbery or…anything really.

_Seriously, couldn't people find better things to occupy themselves with than another's misfortune?_

The grimace on the officer's own face answered him.

* * *

><p>Kouichi had stopped laughing, and he'd managed not to burst into tears but it had been a near thing. The old lady had seemed to understand as she'd held him, a complete stranger but still a child in pain, close and Kouichi himself had been too long deprived of his own <em>obaa-chan<em>'s embrace to even think of being embarrassed. His body agreed with the testament as there was no redness in his cheeks when they parted.

The couple had left them alone during that time, but they returned quickly enough. 'There's just a lady named Ayame-san with your mother right now,' the younger woman said. 'Do you know her?'

Kouichi nodded. 'She's _'kaa-san_'s friend.' He bit his lip lightly as eyes drifted to the clock on the mantle-piece. Kouji and their father _could_ still be on the road (if they left the house late and got stuck in traffic – which was perfectly believable he told himself, shoving all other thoughts out of his mind), but they'd probably by in Kyoto by –

He jumped up suddenly. 'I forgot about Ayame-san,' he exclaimed. 'She must be –'

'We informed her,' the man said, putting a firm hand on his shoulder and guiding him back into his seat. 'She was worried but she understood. Claimed you might have disappeared in some corner of the library.'

Kouichi blushed at that and the couple laughed.

'We'll drop you off,' the man managed after a brief respite. 'I promised your mother's friend I'd get you there safe and sound.'

'No, I can – I can walk –'

Both women frowned disapprovingly at him and he shrunk lightly. They were strangely reminiscent of his mother and grandmother with those identical expressions.

'You'll do no such thing,' the old lady scolded. 'You may be feeling fine now, but fainting spells –'

Now he _was_ feeling vaguely embarrassed, especially as he had no idea how he'd managed to collapse like that.

The younger woman caught his look and handed him a jelly-bun. 'Stress or not looking after yourself without your mother,' she said with a faint scolding in her tone. 'Either way, jelly rolls are a good cure.'

He had no time to protest before one was stuffed in his mouth. Evidently the woman had experience with dealing with reluctant eaters.

'I'm a child-carer,' she said cheerfully, causing the teen to blush. 'Now you finish those and then we'll drive you over.'

* * *

><p>Satomi would, for days after, thank her friends from high school for organising a reunion for such a day. Initially, she had protested quite vehemently; it was a school day, Kousei was working (not to mention quite a few other husbands), and it was a four hour drive all the way to Kyoto. In the end, she'd taken the same bullet train her step-son frequented when visiting his brother and mother (or her other stepson in visiting <em>them<em>) and it had been far simpler.

The call on her mobile half-way through had been most unexpected, and she choked on a half-finished drink by the end of it. Once she hung up, she was, for the first time, _glad_ that most of her friends now lived in Kyoto – the hospital was not far at all.

And she needed to be there.

* * *

><p>The couple were true to their word; they even insisted on escorting him inside but Kouichi put his foot down; he'd troubled them more than enough. Now that he thought about, the three were vaguely familiar, as one would expect after living in the same relative area. He did pass, now that he considered his route with a little more care, that quaint little house quite often when walking from his apartment to the hospital or vice-versa; often, he would pick his mother up with the umbrella when rain suddenly came, or when he and grandmother had cooked up a surprise for her to enjoy during her nightshifts.<p>

They must have thought so too, more so in fact because they had never asked his name. It hadn't occurred to him before, but they must have known it to call the hospital…or at least his mother's name. In fact, it wasn't until they addressed him as Kimura-_kun_ in farewell that the probability actually occurred to him.

But he was fine in entering the hospital on his own. He'd stepped through those doors more times to count, and for a variety of reasons. Even the current circumstance wasn't particularly different; his mother had been in the hospital for illness before and he had visited.

That made it no easier though. Except for the fact he didn't need to line up at the reception desk and angst for a good fifteen minutes as the queue inched towards the front. He still needed to get through them though…and the emergency and trauma unit they decided to put _right_ next to the walk-in entrance.

In retrospect, it would have been smarter to have the ambulance a little further away, because anyone waiting in the reception could catch sight of something traumatic, and unlike the nurses and doctors and paramedics involved in the off-load, most of them weren't sensitised to the things that might be seen.

Worst was recognising something, or someone, in a fleeting moment.

His blood, quite literally, went cold. At first, he couldn't think why; he'd just been ducking between a man with a broken arm and family huddled together when the crowd had momentarily parted. It took a few extra moments before he registered exactly what he had seen, and then he took a step back and breathed deeply.

He didn't know why, but faces as pale and blank like that really frightened him. It was somewhat logical, but more so for his family and friends than him; he'd looked somewhat like that, after falling down the stairs at Shibuya station and entering a near-death coma. He'd (obviously) never seen his own face in such a state, but the description stayed with him long afterwards, looming like a blank mask over dark nightmares.

But then the crowd parted again, and he _was_ looking into his own face. It was then that the previous image caught up with his name in full, and he was reaching out with a stifled cry –

He would never know how Satomi had gotten there so fast, nor how she'd caught him and held him tight, obscuring the view even as arms stretched towards an unconscious brother. All he remembered thereafter was reaching, straining out, burbling cried escaping from shocked and trembling lips.

Eventually, warmth from the embrace stole through and defrosted his cold and tired limbs like a blanket draped over his form. He followed quietly, not hearing half-felt whispers tricking about like over-sweetened honey, and waited inanimately – later by his mother's bedside when the door failed to budge, father resting on a second bed brought in to the room.

She was sleeping still, pale under the hospital light. Whether her embrace would be warm as well, he didn't know. Not even the blanket over him stole the cold away.

When he finally saw his brother again, drowning under wires and tubes even his experience with hospitals didn't help identify, very little changed. The wax-like feature remained firmly within his mind: the limp and cooling limbs and the monotone drone of machines echoing artificial life.


	4. White Snow Falls

Author's Notes

Still not quite back on track. And this is quite high on my priority list too. Only one more chapter and the epilogue left now, and then I have to decide which WIP will fill the empty hole…

This isn't necessarily medically correct, but Siamese twins are somewhat of a myth so it's not like there's a whole lot of proof anyway. :) Everything else is fine though. I didn't research anything new but I am studying life sciences so I have most of the background information on hand. That's not the important part for this short fic.

Please tell me what you think. I'm not getting a lot of feedback for my DF fics lately and that makes me sad…

Or tired. But that's more uni I think.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><span>All Things End with Home<span>

'He always said I was going to die first.'-'Perhaps there isn't a reason for these things. - 'Perhaps there isn't a reason for anything.'-'I don't believe that. There has to be.' Char death.

Kouichi K & Kouji M

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

White Snow Falls

'Shouldn't we wake him up?'

'We should probably let him sleep. I doubt he's been getting any decent rest.'

'He's not asleep to wake up in any case.'

'Guys? Isn't it rude to talk about someone in third person when they're right _there_?'

'Uhh…'

Kouichi lifted his head slightly, prompting two squeaks and a squeal.

A sheepish laugh, noticeably Takuya, followed.

'Yeah…well, we weren't saying anything…umm…_bad_ or anything.'

'I know it still feels awkward,' Tomoki mumbled as Kouichi let his head fall limply again. 'When Yutaka onii-san talks to 'kaa-san and 'tou-san about me when I'm on the couch between them.'

'Of course,' Izumi finally spoke up. 'It would help Kouichi if you just sat up and talked to us.'

He just mumbled something.

The four who were in better realms of consciousness exchanged glances before the only female spoke up again. 'Did you and Satomi-san get any rest yesterday?'

Kouichi lifted his head and rested his chin on his arms. His hands though still clutched his brother's pale one. One cheek too, as if finding comfort in non-existent warmth.

'No,' he answered eventually, and rather tiredly. 'We tried, but just wound up watching some drama and burning the ramen.'

'You_ burnt_ ramen?' Takuya repeated. 'Or Satomi-san? Both of you can cook so-ouch!'

The brunette glared at Izumi, or specifically, the elbow poking his stomach.

'We…got a little distracted from the pot.'

Junpei leaned over to give the younger boy a closer look. The other still didn't look entirely focused; he looked far worse than they'd seen him last, a few weeks ago. He was always pale, but at that moment even Kouji, who'd lain unconscious in a hospital bed for more than a month, and their mother who'd drifted in and out of consciousness, had more colour in their faces than him.

'You're coming down with something.'

'I don't think so.'

The others leaned closer as well; it was a little hard to hear the elder twin over the soft whirring of machines.

'Well, you certainly look pale.' A hand pressed against the other's forehead, the other gauging against his own. 'You're cold. And clammy.'

'Its winter,' the other deadpanned, although a hint of frustration was detectable in his voice. His words were true though, despite the intent for which they were said; a thin layer of frost covered the windows despite the late morning.

'Then explain why we're not popsicles.'

'I'm not melting.'

'No, you're just freezing.' Junpei sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes, attempting to argue with the ex-warrior of darkness gave him a headache; it was tricky to catch him and most attempts backfired rather badly. Even when the other wasn't feeling well.

'I'm not freezing.'

Normally, a loophole like that would cause an internal jig; Kouichi had just given him the perfect opportunity. But it was hard to enjoy small victories with everybody worried, tired and strained…and Kouji like _that_.

They were all trying to follow the Doctor's orders though: to be natural, to talk as if nothing was wrong, to coax the other back…

None of the others had asked Kouichi to explain his expression at the order either; it wasn't hope, or reluctance, or really anything that could be expected. In fact, none of them could really place it; the closest Tomoki came was pity, but that made no sense at all.

'I'm tempted to call the Doctor in here.'

'I can walk into the in-clinic-'

'Good.'

Kouichi realised too late what he had volunteered to, and failed to form an audible protest by the time the other got him on his feet. That did not mean he was partial to the idea though as he attempted to twist out of the other's grasp and sit back in his seat.

He only managed the latter, which did nothing to help his case as the force which succeeded his action was rather questionable. But Junpei let him go anyway, letting the other take his younger brother's hand in both his own again, leaning into the touch with a dim expression.

'Is he warm?' Takuya asked, coming forward. Rationale told him it would be better to have both hands inside the coverlet; even with the central warming and his thick jacket, he was still a little cold.

'Warmer now.' Kouichi closed his eyes. 'He was much colder before.'

'_You_ were warmer before,' Junpei scolded, before being elbowed by Izumi. 'What? I'm telling the truth.'

The blonde sighed. 'Try answering the questions of the universe while you're at it,' she countered sarcastically. 'In the meantime, stop pestering.'

'I'm not pestering. You're babying-'

'Uhh…maybe you guys should stop arguing like an old married couple.'

'I am not-'

That was physically speaking anyway. After all, curling up with a freezing brother was comforting in and of itself.

Takuya's little interjection went unheard for the two concerned, and in retrospect that was probably a lucky thing. Izumi for one would have given him a sharp right hook for even _suggesting_ such a thing…although Junpei might have been pleased. It was difficult to know how far the crush had simmered down; no-one dared bring the subject up.

Tomoki it appeared was also quite hesitant in getting involved in the escalating conflict, but a hospital room really wasn't the place to be arguing, no matter how high-strung its occupants were.

'Guys!' Takuya yelled finally, and Junpei and Izumi both blushed at the awkward silence that followed. 'As normal as us arguing can get, it's normally me and Izumi or me and Kouji –'

No-one bothered to correct his grammar.

' – although it might wake Kouji up with a doozey of a headache.' It was more an attempt to lighten the mood than an actual hope; he seriously doubted Kouji would even let things get so far if he had an actual say in the matter.

It seemed Kouichi agreed. 'He won't.'

They all looked at him as he stood on his own accord. 'He'll either wake up when his body can take it or when he knows he'll die.'

His eyes were closed when he said that, and he barely opened them as he slipped past his friends and left the room.

Izumi and Takuya both made to go after him, but Junpei stopped them. 'Don't.'

The blonde opened her mouth to argue, but Tomoki cut in. 'I think Junpei's right. He's probably gone to visit Kimura-san and it's not our place to intrude on that.'

'No, it isn't.' Junpei took the vacated seat and felt Kouji's hand. It was cool and stiff, but dry unlike his twin. 'But now I don't know what to say or do.'

There was silence after that. Izumi opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. 'I don't think you knew before either. None of us did.'

'No…I guess not.' He sighed heavily. 'Sorry.'

Izumi just shrugged. Whatever else she was, she definitely did _not_ believe in pointless apologies. And it was pointless; all of them were right and wrong…except perhaps Tomoki who somehow had the foresight to not say something stupid. Even the normally rational Kouichi hadn't…but that was understandable in itself. It was his parents and brother after all.

'Minamoto-san's out of the hospital now,' Takuya said suddenly. 'Right?'

Izumi nodded. 'He's on his crutches. Mina…err, Satomi-san's keeping a sharp eye on him though because he still gets headaches.' She'd bumped into the woman after she'd dropped Kouichi off at the hospital.

'Guys..?' Tomoki finally spoke up.

The other three looked at him.

'Do you think Kouichi wants us here?'

Blank faces greeted him.

'He didn't look happy. Maybe we're just in the way…'

Takuya thought a moment, before putting a hand on the young boy's shoulder. 'Maybe we are in the way,' he comforted. 'But we're all friends. Kouji's _and_ Kouichi's. I think us being here means a lot to him, but he's going through a tough time too, and the people he'd normally lean on are both unconscious in hospital beds. His mother and his twin. Maybe he does want to be alone with them, but I think he appreciates us being here all the same. If he didn't want us around, he would have made it clear.'

'Are you sure?' Tomoki didn't look convinced.

Takuya grinned. 'Of course. Remember when we planned that surprise for Kouji, and Kouichi kicked him out of his own house. The rest of us had no success, but just "pow" and –' He made exaggerated hand motions; the entire story was exaggerated.

They all laughed anyway, and the atmosphere immediately lightened. The droning and whirring of machines prevented it from reaching the sky; the emotions remained like a white cloud stripped of its grey undertone, but still carrying that storming potential within.

'I –' Izumi began. 'I almost couldn't believe he didn't wake up when you ranted at him for a half-hour…you know?'

Takuya hung his head at that, a little ashamed. 'I couldn't believe I managed that.'

'You've all done better than me,' Tomoki mumbled quietly. 'I can barely come up with anything.'

'Maybe you all should go out for some fresh air.' A nurse had entered without their notice. 'Winter might seem grey and dreary, but there's no denying its air can be a blast on the face.'

* * *

><p>It turned out the nurse had been right; the fresh air was rather…refreshing. But it was also rather chilly, and they came back inside in a hurry. Back in the room though, the four simply stared at each other.<p>

'Oh,' Izumi exclaimed suddenly, before leaving.

'What -?' Takuya began, but the girl was already back with a bouquet of roses.

'I almost forgot,' she said sheepishly, going about arranging them in the filled vase, removing the dried up ones. Luckily, she'd brought them in water, elsewise the "fresh" lot wouldn't have fared much better. Every colour was there except red; none of them (except Kouichi) had seen the crushed mass that had been the roses Kouji had brought for his mother, but they had all heard about it. Adding red flowers to the vase was simply disturbing. 'One of these days, he'll complain about the smell of those roses.'

'I think he'll complain about all of us making ourselves sick with worry first,' Junpei pointed out. 'But I know I can't help it. I doubt even Kouichi, who's already watched someone die before his eyes, can help that.'

There was silence for a few minutes, and then: 'I don't think we're doing a good job at "visiting",' Tomoki mumbled finally. 'I don't like this situation.'

'None of us do,' Takuya responded. 'But you're right. Maybe we should-oh!' He had opened the door on reflex and backed away on instinct when it crashed into someone else.

Kouichi just stared at him, a little blankly.

'Whoops. Sorry buddy.' He helped the other up. 'Wasn't expecting you to just pop up like that.' He paused, looking at the other more closely. 'You look tired.'

It was the understatement of the century, but Kouichi just nodded. 'I'm going back to the house now. Would you guys like to come or should I just leave the address?'

He meant Ayame's home which she had graciously extended to his stepmother, recovering father and the friends that dropped by during their holidays. It was turning into a bit of a crowd, but there was simply no making do with the stairs in the apartment complex. Hence why he hadn't said home.

'We'll come,' Takuya said immediately. They had after all pretty much agreed beforehand.

'And don't you dare say sorry,' Izumi added, earning three odd looks in return. She may have been right though, as Kouichi lead the way without another word.

* * *

><p>'Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?' Takuya asked, finding the elder twin leaning against the balcony. They'd had a quick lunch which Satomi had insisted on cooking, despite Izumi's and Junpei's attempts to help (Tomoki's had been easily shut down), but Kouichi had been sleeping. Or he had been lying down with his eyes closed.<p>

'I was,' the other replied, almost silently. The wind could have swallowed up his words; they were just lucky it had died down to nothing. Kouichi closed his eyes. 'I'm sorry.'

'Huh?' Takuya blinked; that had come out of thin air. Quite literally.

'For making you all worry.' The balcony was all but supporting the elder twin. 'But –'

'It's not something you can help.' The brunet nodded. 'This is half your family we're talking about, and the half you're closest to to boot. Don't worry; we get it.'

'That's not it.'

'Huh?'

'The truth is, you _can_ become desentised. To waiting. To watching people die. And we all watched a lot of digimon die in the digital world.'

'A human is different,' Takuya said quietly.

'Not really,' Kouichi countered. 'They live, they have a will and they die. In that basic essence at least, they are the same. Bodies are reborn. Ashes return to the earth. The cycle of life continues on; it's only the soul, and the memories, that fade away…' He looked up to the sky. 'The waiting hurts. It puts everyone on edge, and then when it's over, we wonder what more could we have done in the time that we had. That it's too short. Or they recover and the time is put away until it returns again – 'kaa-san at least has been like this many times.'

Takuya said nothing. The other's voice was quiet. Droning. He needed to talk, to say what he was feeling. Even if no-one did understand. Even if no-one could understand.

'I know that worrying and ignoring myself doesn't help, but that's something that can't be avoided. Each time it happens, it's like a little more time is taken away, a little less time I can see her, feel her warmth and embrace…'

No, he could never understand. Kouichi's relationship with his mother was something special, because for the longest time it had been only the two of them.

There was silence for a moment, before Kouichi spoke again. 'It's harder to hope she'll get better.'

The next silence stretched even longer.

'What about Kouji?'

He thought perhaps the other wouldn't answer his question, but eventually he did.

'That…is something I could never get used to.'

Takuya was hard-pressed to stop a third "huh" from escaping. He was starting to wish Junpei had checked the balcony instead of him. He was better at philosophy things. Takuya, he was just in the cheering-up department. But he could loan a good ear, which was all he was apparently succeeding at.

'Takuya…'

'Huh?' It escaped after all. He could have hit himself.

'Do you believe in Siamese twins?'

'Siamese twins?'

Kouichi opened his eyes and looked up. 'Twins whose souls are connected. Some say two parts of a whole.'

'Like the whole light and darkness thing with Lucemon?' He supposed, in that case…'And how you two always seem to know when the other's in pain or something? How could I not; you two are living-' It suddenly hit him. 'You mean –'

That explained why the guy looked like a living corpse…although the stress wouldn't have helped matters any.

'I know it was Kouji who was struck and not me,' Kouichi continued, almost to himself. 'But I felt it, even if I didn't realise it at the time. Ever since then, something has been in the back of my head. Every time I fall asleep, I feel this darkness stretching over me. Like a blanket; I want to sleep under it, but I –'

'But you want to spend as much time as possible with the people you love, and Kouji wants to do the same.' Takuya embraced the other, half supporting the wavering form. 'But if you collapse from exhaustion, that'll cut back on the time you can spend with them, right? And that will cut back on the time we can spend with all of you too. Even if we're completely useless…'

Kouichi leaned in slightly. 'You guys are never useless…'

'Well, that's good to hear –'

'Thank you.'

He almost missed it, but could have easily guessed in any case. 'That's what friends are for silly. Now let's get you some rest for real. And then we'll go visit again tomorrow. Properly. And who knows; your mother might just be awake again. And if Kouji doesn't look better, we'll cover his whole room in rosees.'

Kouichi said nothing; his eyes were closing of their own accord. Tiredness and something else ached in every bone and muscle in his body. He didn't think he could have moved from the balcony if Takuya wasn't practically carrying him.

But Takuya was right; if he collapsed, he'd lose time to both unconsciousness and sleep. It _was_ cold, but it wasn't like that would kill him. And he _could_ hope they'd be there tomorrow. After all, they'd been there every time he'd gone so far.

And Kouji had a promise to keep after all.

And so did he.

Because Kouji had promised him he wouldn't watch his little brother, his twin, die. And he'd promised to live his life till the minute his soul was written to depart. A pact between brothers, between yin and yang if one willed. One they refused to break, because it was that important to both of them.

He fell into the depths of his mind with that thought.

* * *

><p>The others were worried when Kouichi didn't come down for dinner either, but all adults agreed to let him sleep – and he was asleep, so that put the childrens' minds at rest. When he slept through breakfast too however, Satomi (despite Ayame's protests to keep her in bed herself) crept into the bedroom.<p>

Kouichi was definitely unconscious; the blankets were rather neat for one whose sleep was as fitful as his normally was. The previous night, she had been thankful for the respite, but she was sure eighteen hours was extremely unusual. It wasn't in fact until thirty-six that it was considered a medical emergency in itself, but that was for the healthy person.

And Kouichi, as much as he needed some rest, also needed some food.

She failed to wake him however. All she got from him was a subconscious mumble of protest.


	5. And on the Horizon

Author's Notes

*cries* No-body except Asari-chan's reading…

Just the epilogue left now, so hopefully that will be up next week. Keep an eye out for updates on Achilles' Heel after that.

BTW, does anyone know the antonym of creased? I tried uncreased but spellcheck doesn't like it.

And why is it two in the morning again?

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><span>All Things End with Home<span>

'He always said I was going to die first.'-'Perhaps there isn't a reason for these things. - 'Perhaps there isn't a reason for anything.'-'I don't believe that. There has to be.' Char death.

Kouichi K &Kouji M

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4<span>

And on the Horizon

After the third night, Satomi worriedly called the hospital, and they fixed things to house a pair of twin patients – or maybe that had more to do with the look Kousei had given the Doctor in charge when they found he had put the elder twin's unconscious form in a separate room. After a few more days, the machines too were replicated, and if it wasn't for the fact that Kouji_still_ had more colour in his face than his brother, anyone who entered the room would wonder to the seamless mirror plastered on one end of a very small room. They would of course be mistaken; the room wasn't a reflection split down the middle. The differences were rather subtle though: different variation in flowers – Takuya still hung to the belief of annoying Kouji with the roses but Izumi had brought Sakura stalks and chamomile for the elder twin. If anyone looked into the matter, it was quite a clever choice, but the blonde had chosen them from instinct alone because, truthfully, the subject of flowers had never come up with Kouichi.

Not that the decision was at the top of anybody's priority list with _two_ best friends in a coma as opposed to one, and the latter largely unexplainable from a medical viewpoint. The best the Doctor could come up with was the "Siamese twin theory" – sadly exactly what Takuya and Kouichi had spoken about last the latter had been awake, and that had done wonders for Takuya's confidence…which no-one, even those who teased him relentlessly about brimming self-assurance, could accredit him for. After all, it was hardly a silver lining.

_Whoever thought of that cliché must have been seriously messed up, _he thought, almost viciously, to himself. _Either that or they had pretty good lives and the worst they ever had to deal with was their toast getting burnt._

But even if he said it out loud, nothing would have changed.

And nothing did, save the superficial things. The weather grew colder. Kousei was slowly weaned off his crutches. Kouji's casts were removed and replaced with light bandages, limbs flexed and extended regularly to prevent atrophy from settling into muscle. Sheets were removed and replaced uncreased, though not untouched.

Kouichi was a different matter. The first few weeks he still shifted a little, as if caught in a dim nightmare he could barely grasp: a world that held no door but was stifled in a veil of mist. Unlike a regular nightmare though he would not be roused, though he had mumbled incomprehensibly from time to time. Those were few and far between, and as time passed even more so until the elder twin's form too stilled and he slept in the same deep coma as his brother.

Tomoko's room grew colder too; the constant presence of her child was gone, and while her ex-husband and his wife still visited from time to time, it wasn't the same. The children, the mutual friends of their sons, had come once as well but she had been sleeping then as well. At times she still woke, but the cold winter seemed to lull her back to her rest and no-one saw it fit to discourage that. No-one told her too the fate of her children, and she did not ask. Kousei suspected though she knew; their relationship may not survived, but he knew how close both children rested to her heart. A mother's heart: that would not change.

But one day the sun shone through the dark white near winter's end, putting a temporary damper on the snow. The image was dreary still; more so in fact because the light illuminated the white dust scattered about grey, but it was change nonetheless. .A clear sky that could spell at all.

And it just so happened that the five were visiting again. For them, they could not remain in Kyoto like the family; they had families of their own in Shibuya and Shinjuku. Nor could they ride the bullet train limitlessly; their allowance simply didn't stretch so far. Their parents took pity on them though – while none condoned wasting of such resource, they were impressed by the strength of friendship their children possessed and so no reason to discourage that. As such, they gave advances, sometimes arranging ahead for certain relatives scattered about to take the children in so their stay could continue.

For them, it didn't matter that their presence gave no comfort at all. They had nothing else to offer but that that and a hope that dwindled. Because with each passing day it became difficult to believe, to continue persisting – but at the same time there was something firm, unyielding that existed within them all. And they were fortunate; not many saw death revived, and that image spurred the flame that wilted. Kouichi had died in all senses of the term save one and lived through it: a medical miracle. And not the only miracle they'd borne witness to in their lifetime; Susanoomon had been another such gift. And their Double-Spirit evolution forms. Many things, they thought about and clung to, throughout their journey through the digital world. The twins' meeting in itself was another such miracle. The chances were astronomical, especially since it was not Ofanimon's interference but Cherubimon's that led to the crossing of paths and destinies.

Or perhaps it was written, but hope had no place in a book completed.

But the sun shining meant they could cross through the dew-soaked grass without their umbrellas and feel a slight warmth stealing through their cold skin. That they could think about the spring looming on the horizon, and the new life it gifted. It wasn't particularly lifting, as their destination was as white and dull as it always was, but at least it washed one sense of cold away.

It also woke Tomoko, flittering across her face like a butterfly drawn to the light and her eyelids fluttered in like. The sliver of yellow and white pulled her up from winter's fatigue; she was weak, too weak, and she knew it but the strands that rose up to the heaven invited her to utilise the little time that remained. Like a harp string, it plucked into the quiet air with a song only she could hear, calling her with all the sadness in her age and screaming with another's youth.

The Doctor saw it too, the veil that hid life lifting from her eyes, and allowed her to leave the bed.

And Kousei promptly hung up on his boss – with whom he had been arguing for some family leave after his medical certificate expired – at the call from the hospital, informing him of the first action his younger son had taken for almost two months. They had not said whether it was good or bad, nor had he allowed them; what mattered that he saw his son. Perhaps both of them because he was sure that, despite their state, the twins could still reach each other and that in itself was a small comfort beneath the curse.

And it was a curse, because the machines attached to the younger twin were screaming in protest when they all collected at his bedside, save Kouichi who looked as though he had not noticed at all. Perhaps though it was the heart not worn on his face, but no-body thought in that moment of him as Kouji forced his eyes open with an effort befitting a stubborn man with the world to gain and nothing to lose.

And he saw only one face missing. But there was no need to ask.

'I'm sorry,' was all he whispered, voice hoarse from disuse and barely heard over the machines. The meaning carried though, and with it all the weight of the apology he could barely speak.

And everyone present knew he wasn't strictly speaking to them. A sliver of the meaning webbed at them, but the main thread – the one that bound the trunk together – went to the one person out of sight.

Takuya and Junpei both shook their heads; the latter looked like he was going to add something but decided against it. Tomoko was still in the room after all.

That didn't stop Takuya though, but it was safe to assume their means the words he spoke weren't what Junpei had intended himself. 'What are you apologizing for baka? It's not like you did this on purpose, and you sure as hell tried your best.'

'Yeah…' The validation was a little clearer, if still softer and choked. Izumi moved for the cup; Tomoki, having the same idea, bumped into her. Kouji's eyes closed of their own accord. 'But…I can't…anymore…'

It was easier to hear him, but it took a moment for everyone to realise why. To realise the monitors were slowing down, the silence lengthening…

Kouji's lips moved again, this time his voice drowned out. Whatever he said was lost in the beeping and slight whirring; the silence teased at the edges of the sun while the darkness whisked his words away.

Tomoko reached out unsteadily; her hand only managed to touch the bedspread.

'kaa…san…'

His eyes were open again. He was looking at her. 'I can't…too long…I…tried…but I…'

Kousei petted his hair, the way he did when the twins were small enough to fit onto his lap together with their stuffed animals. He was silent; so were the women.

The children found it far harder to understand; they were worried. Something dark was settling in their chest, their heart – but at the same time there was a dim elation spluttering within. After all, wasn't awaking the first step on the road to recovery?

But everything else contradicted that, and that's what stopped the flame from becoming fully alight. Perhaps that was also what killed the words in their throat: the reassurances that things would be fine, the bubbly happiness that should have arisen…

'I can't…wait…' Kouji's eyes slipped closed again. 'It's…' The machines drowned his next word, or word. 'to…' Another missing word. '…forever…Have to…' The machines overlayed his voice again. '…better…or move…on.'

If that wasn't crystal clear, nothing was. The hand caressing the hair moved away to take a limp hand instead. Satomi's overlayed her husband's as the man reached for the other hand as well, placing it in Tomoko's own frail grip.

'It's okay,' was all the father said. Satomi just made a nose of agreement.

It was Tomoko that explained; she knew best out of the adults after all. 'When you're caught in between, eventually you have to go one way or another. Either get better and live, or…pass on…' Her own pale eyelids dropped over her sight. 'It's okay,' she repeated quietly. 'It'll hurt for awhile, but better, far better, than seeing you both suffering every day.' That she spoke for the others, because she had seen the least of them with the eyes of the body, caught in the same throw herself.

Kouji moved his head the tiniest bit, the fraction of a nod, and closed his eyes again. The monitor dropped once more, and then the room was full. A few doctors. A handful of nurses…and they were ushered out.

By the time the doctor's grave face greeted them (except Tomoko who had been taken back to her own room), the sun had disappeared again and the sky had turned back to grey.

But it was more than that, and it was numbness instead of grief that stole through the crowd. Shock: a crowd of pale faces, some trembling, some straight and blank but all minds reeling in a sense. But there was still a purpose, something that focused their vision. Like when it had come to fighting Lucemon after losing a member of their team…

And now they had to save him. Or hope. This time, letting him go would not be an option; he was free, untouched –

– but sinking.

Kouichi's face was impossibly paler than they had last seen, and his brother's machines had been hooked up to him instead. A nurse remained in the room, anxiously keeping an eye on the readouts – and no-one could blame her in a rational mind; with Siamese twins, one didn't really expect the other to remain on the bridge once one's fate had been decided.

The fading monitor told them the decision they didn't want to hear.

'Kouichi,' Tomoki managed, voice trembling.

Nothing. Not that they had expected anything. But the one word gave leeway for more.

'We love you. Kouji…and you too. So you can't –' Izumi, her voice choking off into a sob. Junpei put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed, mumbling incoherently into his shirt.

Takuya took a deep breath, steadying himself. 'I know Kouji means more to you than anything in the world,' he began, voice unsteady as he talked about his best friend. But there would be time for that. When it wasn't so essential to single-mindedly focus on another task. There was no opportunity to collapse into hysteria. Not then. 'And he's our friend. But so are you. And you've still got family here. And I know you couldn't content yourself with leaving us like this. I know I've said this before, but –'

It was Tomoko who finished those words, lightly touching the white hand outside the coverlet. 'Come back,' she said softly, almost whispering but in the silence between beeps so her voice was heard. 'You can go as well, with your brother and grandmother if that's what you think would make you happiest, but I know it won't. You cannot die with regrets; I know. Your friends know too, even if they don't realise it; it's what gives them their voice.'

When things would settle a little, they would realise. And understand. And begin the healing process.

'And you would regret it, because you now have the choice to come back.' She closed her eyes, cold hand against cold but warmth somehow still stole from one to the other. Her to him. Mother to child. 'I know it couldn't be this way for Kouji; his body was too madly damaged in the physical sense for all the spirit in the world…but you have strength left, and I think…' She closed her eyes. 'No, I know that he would want you to continue living, and smiling for him, with the people you both hold dear to your hearts…'

Her eyelids fluttered as the last words faded from her lips and she slumped forward. Conscious, still conscious, but only just. Kousei and Satomi had both moved to support her, and now the three adults stood in a clump as they watched the slightest twitch of a hand and the quickened beat of the heart monitor.

* * *

><p>Everyone had their own way of grieving, of reacting. And understandably, it took a while for everyone to come together. Tomoko's passing was another blow to the shreds of the family, but they bore it silently. This time at least, it had been coming for years.<p>

It might have been a blessing that Kouichi had come out of his coma before she died. In the long term at least, but anyone who entered the Minamoto's home (as guardianship went to his father) wondered if the boy who sat quietly at the window would ever recover. Most of the time he would stare at something in the distance, away from the heart of Tokyo and towards the graveyard on the outskirts. Sometimes he held a book in his hands. Once his brother's guitar. Nothing was done though; they remained limp objects, straight and cold.

If he cried, he did so in the darkness of his room where no-one could see save the nightmares that saved his rest; the dark rings under pale skin was all the testament that existed to that, but it was all that was needed. Satomi coaxed him; he ate, almost mechanically but enough to sustain himself. He moved, did enough. Mechanical actions passing the days away, and when that all came to an end he would sit by the window again as the snow stopped falling and spring approached.

His friends didn't come for a while, and when they did it was awkward and separate. After a few days though they came together and united. He didn't turn them away, but he did not invite them in either.

They said nothing to him, but left the imprint of sadness behind…and lingering warmth that stole through trembling veins. And the aching of his chest refused to depart; the grey still beckoned him, refusing to rest until he had said his goodbyes. He stood and drifted to the door, slipping his feet into shoes that had gotten too big for him before passing through the threshold and a step closer to his destination.

Satomi heard him leave. Rather, she heard the door open and then close again.

'Okaeri,' she said, thinking it was her husband arriving home from a late shift and distracted by something. He was at times: the phone usually, reading a message, and thus forgetting the traditional "taidama" greeting.

But silence only followed, and she frowned before looking into the living room…and the front door beyond. It was closed, but not as she had left it. The chain had slipped off its hook and dangled uselessly. The knob opened with a small twist to the darkness of the night, permeated only by little pricks of light from the street lamps far above.

Kouichi's seat was empty. His shoes were gone. She didn't know what to do. To feel. Panic or wait, or a mix of both.

And then she was washed by a car's headlights, turning into the driveway. Kousei had arrived home.


	6. Epilogue

Author's Notes

As Asarikou-chan correctly pointed out, the last chapter linked to the beginning of the prologue. This therefore continues on from the end of the prologue.

Notice that I used devoid differently here. I did that on purpose, 'kay?

…and…finished. Another fic to tick off.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><span>All Things End with Home<span>

'He always said I was going to die first.'-'Perhaps there isn't a reason for these things. - 'Perhaps there isn't a reason for anything.'-'I don't believe that. There has to be.' Char death.

Kouichi K &Kouji M

Epilogue

His brother's jacket wrapped around his shoulder, he walked slowly home. Even with spring in the air the night-wind was cold, freezing his cheeks and the little balled fists that clutched blue cloth like a lifeline. He trembled; the lingering remnants of winter showed him no mercy, turning the slow-drying tear treks to icicles of frozen salt and his fingers to brittle glass.

He stopped before the gates of the cemetery. The light crunch of boots followed by silence told him the others had paused as well.

'Kouichi?'

He put his head against the cold metal of the gate. The iciness ran like a jolt through his head but he transferred his grip to the rods instead, jacket slipping down to expose a worn shoulder.

'Kouichi?'

He trembled. 'How can you be –' The words choked in his throat; not accusatory, but there was still something explosive in the query, the question.

Izumi leaned down and retrieved the jacket as it slipped completely, placing it over the other's shoulders again.

'Why we're not crying like you?' she asked, one hand gently coaxing a new tear from his lashes.

Kouichi closed his eyes.

'We were Kouichi.' Junpei was the one who responded, stepping forward to put a firm hand on each shoulder. 'We cried as soon as we could, until we cried ourselves out. I did. We all did. Separately. With our parents, our siblings…and then with each other too. And then after that, we try to smile, and be happy…

'…because our tears tie them to this earth,' the elder and now only twin finished unsteadily, a second new trail joining the halted first. 'I didn't cry then. I – I –'

'Cry now,' the ex-warrior of thunder said gently, pulling the boy away from the cold iron and into his hold. The other turned and buried his face into his chest, body shuddering as if a dam regaining its second wind battered at the gates. 'And once you've feel you've cried enough, for both of them, then smile for them as well.'

They stayed in silence for a moment. And then: 'It's not that easy,' Kouichi mumbled into the elder boy's chest. 'It's not that easy. It's not.'

'No.' This time, it was Takuya who answered. 'You knew better than all of us, because your grandmother was important to you too and you lost her. But we met you after that, and you were still sad, still grieving…but we saw you smiling as well And those grew once we came back.'

A pause, then:

'Takuya-nii? How long were you practicing that speech?'

'Hey, what makes you think I practised it?'

'You messed it up in the hospital, remember?'

'You little –'

They broke off with a choked laugh, which shifted gears smoothly into a second round of sobs. Junpei straightened the jacket as the other shifted in his arms.

'Every day, the memories become a little older…I don't want to forget them…' The voice who said that was soft, distant…and frail. Easily broken. Hidden in the quiet sobs that faded as the material and the wind snatched them up.

There was a pause, and then: 'Will we really forget?' Tomoki, the youngest of them all.

Kouichi said nothing, simply sagging against the pillar of strength and closing his eyes.

'Hey, you have a fever!' Junpei declared automatically, before checking and finding that false. Oh…you don't.'

The silence that permeated thereafter was somewhat awkward.

'It was an accident,' the warrior of thunder defended himself, simply to break the monotony.

'It was an accident,' Koichi repeated, the context warping with the speaker and his tone. 'That's the worst of it, because I was the one who called him, asked him to come…' He took a deep, steadying breath and continued. 'I know it's stupid – egotistical, but I – and _'kaa-san_ – I was just trying to make her happy and I couldn't even be there when she needed me most!' He screamed the last part almost incongruently into Junpei's chest, fists balling and trembling between them as the other tightened his grip.

'Kouichi –'

A muffled 'Don't!' stopped them: all of them, including the four who had not spoken.

'Please,' Kouichi repeated. 'Just leave me for a while.'

Another pause, this one tentative. Hesitant.

'But you'll be okay…right?' Takuya asked finally. 'You'll meet us?'

Kouichi stood straight, eyes downcast. The starlight caught his hair. Played with it. Bounced off the drying shine running down his face. 'Yeah,' he answered finally.

'But –' Izumi protested, but Junpei shook his head and released the elder twin.

'We'll be waiting outside for you,' he said.

Kouichi nodded and watched them leave, letting the darkness swallow him until he vanished.

The blonde watched after him. So did Tomoki.

'Do you think…it's a good idea?'

'No.' Takuya sat down. 'I don't know anything at all. But I do know we should trust him. He's stronger than most people give him credit for.'

'I still don't think –' Izumi argued, before Junpei cut her off.

'People are different,' the warrior of thunder said quietly. 'It may have been a while for us, but for him it has been very little time at all.'

_Like awakening slowly from a deep sleep…_

'Would he have been happier..?' Tomoki asked. 'If he hadn't woken up?'

A pause, and then Junpei shook his head. 'That I can be sure of; I don't think there's any amount of selflessness that can make a person continue living if they don't _want_ to themselves.'

_…to face the cold dawn…_

They sat silently after that, watching the stern gates rising up into the sky until – seconds, minutes, hours: they didn't know – a shadow was cast over the entrance again.

_…waiting for the warm midday sun to reveal hope framed in shadow…_

'Well,' Takuya said, standing and hoping he sounded…cheerful perhaps, or at least easy-going. Normal would do as well. 'You said you'd be back.'

Kouichi nodded. Eyes still glistened in the moonlight; pallid skin still shone.

'Ready to go home?' He offered a hand; the other slowly reached forward and took it, other hand maintaining its grip on his brother's heirloom: his precious jacket.

'Are you okay?' Tomoki's voice sounded tiny near his stomach; no matter how much he grew, he was still smaller than them. Younger than them.

'No,' the other replied honestly, voice still wavering just above the devoid. 'But for now…I want to go home.'

The stars glittered above, guiding their slow and unsteady way.

_…until the night comes…with eternal rest._


End file.
